" You went over to Chapel Hill?" That's right. Her name's Alicia Elias. She's just an assistant professor, not the world's foremost authority or anyth...ng, but I felt more comfortable raising the questions with somebody I know. Anyhow, in my opinion, Alicia's a first-rate psychologist." So, what were you looking for? What did..." I asked her about exhibitionism. Female exhibitionism. Well, she didn't have a lot to tell me. It seems that exhibitionism is pretty much the province of you male-type. But yes, I trust you to be faithful to me as I will be to you. I've said it before–" You're faithful to your women," she said laughing. Then the laughter stopped and she was serious. "I have to get over you having two lovers as well, you know."It had never entered my head that she would feel the same reactions; that she would have imagined the intimacies I shared with them as excluding her and leaving her lonely and bereft, once she knew who I was and what had happened to me.It was sobering.. Susan sat on a kitchen chair in her underwear, cleaning the cleats of her soccer shoes. We were pretty casual by ourselves, especially when we were drinking. She'd had a game the other day and it had been muddy, I guess. At least she put some newspaper down to catch the mud she was prying off the soles with a butter knife. My roommate could be a little messy at times, even by college standards."God made a lot of boys, Jen," Susan shrugged and took a swig of beer. "No sense getting hung up on. And the next morning was much the same. She sailed in the door, dropped the bag on my desk, handed me a coffee, and plonked herself on the desk. For a few minutes as she sat there, her legs were crossed, and her short skirt covered her thighs in relative decency. But as she relaxed, and chatted with me, her legs uncrossed, and then spread a little, and behold: panties. Yellow this time. Not a subtle pastel shade. Bright lemon. I was distracted, and I'm sure my conversation skills weren't up to.